


Going Rogue

by ProdigyBlood



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Crowley is too sweet to be a demon, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Set in the 90s, aziraphale is conflicted, bit of angst, but happy ending, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-05-31 03:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19417855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProdigyBlood/pseuds/ProdigyBlood
Summary: Aziraphale is ordered to kill the demon Crowley but, when it comes down to it, will he really be able to?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm torn between continuing this and keeping it a one-shot (mostly because I haven't decided _how_ to continue it...) I guess how well received this is will probably end up being my deciding factor...
> 
> I should have edited this more but I'm lazy. Apologies.
> 
> Also, for no particular reason, it's set in the 90s.
> 
> Edit (07/07/19): I will be continuing this (new chapter soon!) so thanks for the interest! <3 That said, I just reread this chapter and it is AWFUL. Might edit it later, we’ll see...  
> Edit (16/07/19): I've done some tidying up on chapter 1. Still not happy, but it's a bit better

_“Aziraphale, we have a job for you.”_

Aziraphale sat in the dark, his gaze fixed ahead, unblinking. Distantly he was aware of somebody trying the shop door. He ignored it. The closed sign was up and if people couldn’t be bothered to read then that was hardly his fault now, was it? To be perfectly honest it was surprising anybody bothered to try shop there at all. The place had a reputation for being particularly stingy with selling its merchandise. The building wasn’t so much a shop as Aziraphale's own personal library after all. 

The busy murmur of Soho crept in from the outside. The old clock ticked away behind him. These were the only noises. Aziraphale himself was hardly breathing.

He was just staring. Staring at the flask sat carefully before him. It was an unremarkable flask. Plain silver and boring. The angel would have gone for a tartan one he vaguely thinks to himself.

_“You know the demon, Crowley, don’t you? He’s sort of your counterpart if you like.”_

Tick, tick, tick went the clock.

Aziraphale blinked once, slowly. 

In his lap, his hands trembled. His well-manicured nails pressed into his palms. 

_“We need you to deal with him.”_

The door rattled again. 

“We’re closed!” Aziraphale snapped, for once not feeling at all apologetic for his sharp tone.

“Wanker,” somebody yelled from the other side. Because the speaker was clearly drunk, when he spoke again, this time to whoever he was with, Aziraphale could still hear him. “Come on, theres’a pub down the road. We’ll use their bog, yeah?” 

_“Oh, come now, Aziraphale. You know exactly what I mean.”_

Aziraphale glanced at the closed door, waiting until the loud voices disappeared. Really, some people could be _so_ rude. Could one really blame him for the small, irritable miracle that saw that every toilet in a five-mile radius was suddenly closed? 

_“It’s not a problem, is it, Aziraphale? You’re not…_ friends _with the demon, are you?”_

Were he and Crowley friends? The answer should have been a firm no. So why was Aziraphale internally screaming yes?

He knew why, of course. But it was wrong, oh so wrong. Even just being friends was a sin. They were on opposite sides. Crowley had been cast from Heaven. He was evil and Aziraphale was good. He _was_ good, he _was… Wasn't he?_

_“Excellent! Here’s the holy water. See that you get it done sharpish.”_

Aziraphale couldn’t believe he’d agreed to it. He couldn’t kill Crowley… could he? 

No. No, the very notion was ridiculous. He was an angel. Angels didn’t go around killing people. And Crowley was his friend. Crowley was… 

Crowley was special. 

Aziraphale couldn’t go against an order from Gabriel though. Not a direct order like this. There would be no cutting corners, no easy way out. He had agreed to it and now the murder weapon sat before him, waiting for him to use it. 

It almost seemed to vibrate with anticipation.

All he had to do was call Crowley.

Aziraphale stood up abruptly. He walked towards the old telephone but hesitated as he reached for it.

No, he couldn’t do it. 

The angel began pacing, his mind a raging whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Why was this being asked of him, anyway? Why him? He was just the angel of the eastern gate. He was nobody special. Just because they’d been on earth together for the past six thousand years it didn’t make Aziraphale qualified to _kill_ him. 

This was all too much. This was awful. Terrible. A _nightmare_. 

Why couldn’t Heaven and Hell just leave Crowley and him alone? It wasn’t too much to ask, was it? They’d done plenty for the cause. They deserved a break. They deserved to be left to their own devices, to enjoy the finer things that Earth had to offer. Aziraphale just wanted to enjoy the finer things… 

_“The demon Crowley must die, Aziraphale.”_

Why? Why must he?

Aziraphale glanced at the flask again. He felt a little like crying. Scratch that, a _lot_ like crying. What was he meant to do? He couldn’t kill Crowley, but he couldn’t disobey an order, either. 

This time when the angel reached for the phone, he managed to bring it up to his ear. Crowley’s number was ingrained into his memory but he hesitated between each number, scared to finish dialling. Scared to hear the familiar voice that was sure to follow.

Finally, he swiped round to the final digit and the phone began ringing. 

_Please don’t answer…_

“Hello?” 

_Of_ _course, he answered the one time I wish he wouldn’t._

“Oh. Uh… Crowley,” Aziraphale said, stuttering.

“Angel! It’s been a while. Look, is this important? Because I’m just on my way out actually. Got a minor tempting to do, you know the deal.”

“Um, well, actually…” Had words always been this hard? Why was he struggling so much to form a coherent sentence? Aziraphale swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I rather need to talk to you, dear chap,” he said quietly.

“Sure, sure. Can it wait? We could meet tomorrow? St. James’ park? Or, the Ritz!” 

Oh, how Aziraphale wished he could agree to either one of them. Dinner at the Ritz with Crowley… He’d love that, he really would. His small smile dropped quickly and Aziraphale shook his head, even though the demon couldn’t see him. Those places were too crowded. If he was going to do this – _could he?_ – then it had to be somewhere private. 

“I was… I was rather hoping you could come to the book shop, my dear? I’ve just purchased a crate of vintage I thought we could try.” 

“Sounds wonderful. Look, I really need to run, angel, but I’ll catch you tomorrow, yeah?” 

Crowley hung up before Aziraphale could even stutter his agreement. 

Tomorrow. 

He was going to kill Crowley tomorrow.

He hated to think what would happen if he didn’t.

Crowley wasn’t usually a prompt person. Aziraphale was used to waiting around for the demon. That was why, jumpy as he already was, the angel nearly leapt from his human body when the knock sounded, dead on time.

“Crowley,” he said, managing a smile as he opened the door. Despite everything, the sight of _his_ demon still made him smile. “Come in, come in.” 

“So, what’s this about, angel?” 

Crowley was dressed as usual; black, stylish clothes and dark shades that completely hid his serpent eyes. His red hair was effortlessly perfect. He was too skinny. 

“Uh, well…” What was he meant to say? ‘Oh, I’ve been asked to kill you dear chap, hope you don’t mind if I throw some holy water over you?’ No. He couldn’t do that. “Have you been asked to do anything big recently?” he asked instead. 

“Big like how?” Crowley asked, taking a seat. Aziraphale’s eyes flickered towards the holy water. He’d put it in a glass in hopes of it appearing natural. Also just ease of use, really. The easier he made it for himself, the more likely he was to follow through. Or, so he hoped.

“Anything that would put you on my lots radar?” There had to be a reason Heaven wanted him eliminated.

“Not as far as I’m aware,” Crowley said casually. “Just the usual sort.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale felt his stomach sink. He’d hoped Crowley would make this easier by admitting he was about to do something despicable.

“You okay, Aziraphale?”

“Oh. Oh, yes, rather. Splendid, really. Quite splendid. How are you?”

Crowley just gave him a strange look. There was a thoughtful air about him and a moment later he announced, “Actually. I’ve got to be in Paris next week. Some car crash or other. You think that’s what’s got your lot all worked up?” The way he said ‘car crash’ was almost bitter and reminded Aziraphale, not for the first time, that Crowley wasn’t really a bad guy, deep down. He may do as he was told but he didn’t have to like it. 

“A car crash? I doubt it,” Aziraphale said. No, there had to be another reason. Or, maybe there wasn’t. Maybe Heaven just wanted Hell out of the way? Surely they knew somebody would quickly replace Crowley if he were gone? “I do hope nobody will be seriously injured.” 

“I’m sure they won’t. Why’d you ask, anyway?” Crowley still looked so suspicious. 

“Oh, it’s nothing important,” Aziraphale lied. “They were just asking about you. I told them we didn’t really know each other.” 

“Good man,” Crowley said. “So, what about this vintage you mentioned?” 

The angel sprang to his feet, somehow managing to force the briefest of smiles. He spared one last glance at the holy water again before rushing from the room to fetch the wine. 

He was gone perhaps a little too long. He’d been trying to talk himself into it, into doing what needed to be done. He still didn’t understand _why_ it needed to be done, though. He wasn’t happy with the idea of killing Crowley for no good reason. Well, he wasn’t happy with the _entire_ situation. Deep down, Crowley was a good man. He’d certainly gone out of his way to help Aziraphale over the years. The angel would never forget the nineteen-forties and the books that should have been destroyed… 

“Angel?” Crowley called out, making the blond jump. 

“-Coming!” Aziraphale almost dropped the wine bottle in his haste to pick it up and, when he rejoined Crowley, the demon was on his feet. “You’re not… leaving, are you?”

“I’m hungry. Are you hungry?” 

Angels and demons didn’t feel hunger. Aziraphale very much enjoyed eating food, but it wasn’t a necessity. Still, the relief at having a chance to escape his responsibilities washed over him, helping to rinse away the massive weight pushing down on his shoulders. 

Aziraphale gave his first genuine smile. “Always.”

“We could go to Blockbuster, too,” Crowley suggested. 

“I don’t have a television,” Aziraphale said. By now, it was pretty obvious that Crowley knew there was something going on and was trying to cheer Aziraphale up. This kind of behaviour wasn’t normal for the demon. He was being too kind. He was making it too hard.

“You don’t? What’s that then?” Crowley nodded his head to the corner of the room. He hadn’t so much as miracled one into existence as expected there to be one and so, of course, there was. Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh. It was a sad laugh. He had to kill Crowley and the demon was doing everything in his unintentional power to make it impossible for him. The demon gave him another worried look but didn’t say anything. 

“Come on then, dear chap,” Aziraphale said. “Let’s go.” They stepped out into the hot August air, the door locking itself behind them.

Half an hour later, they were back at the book shop. They’d gotten sushi and a VHS of the film Dragonheart. Neither had seen the film yet, Crowley because he had been too busy getting his claws into Independence Day at the time and Aziraphale because he didn’t really watch films if he were honest. He saw the occasional one that Crowley had a hand in because the demon was always so pleased with himself afterwards, but generally, books were Aziraphale’s first and true love when it came to stories. 

Even halfway through the film and two bottles into the vintage wine, Aziraphale couldn’t forget about the glass of holy water that sat like a silent reminder to what had to be done. Except, for Aziraphale, it wasn’t silent but shouting at him, basically screaming in his ear. He couldn’t ignore it, try as he might. He had no idea what was going on with the talking dragon in the film. 

“Angel.” Crowley paused the movie. “How drunk are you?” 

“Rather drunk,” Aziraphale admitted, glancing away from the glass to meet yellow, snake eyes peering at him from behind dark glasses. The room felt like it was spinning and, through his haze, he could still hear that darned glass screaming at him. 

“Drunk enough to tell me what’s going on?”

Aziraphale swallowed. He wasn’t sure he was _that_ drunk. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be that drunk.

“I know that’s holy water,” Crowley said softly, his own eyes flickering to the glass. 

“W-whatever do you mean? Of course, it isn’t!” 

“I can smell it, angel. Smelt it as soon as I entered the book shop.” 

“Oh. Oh dear.” Aziraphale let his head flop to his hands and released a small sob. Whatever must Crowley think of him? 

“Your lot want you to get rid of me, Hm?” 

Not daring to speak, the angel simply nodded against his palms. He couldn’t bring himself to meet the demon’s eyes, didn’t want to see the hurt and betrayal he would surely see looking back at him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said into his hands.

“Why’re _you_ sorry? I’m not angry at you.” 

Aziraphale looked up then. Crowley’s face was set in determination.

“I tried to kill you!” 

“No, you didn’t.” 

“The holy water is right there!” The angel gestured wildly, freezing in fear as he nearly knocked the glass over. He had to be so careful, it would be so easy to accidentally do the ‘right’ thing. Not that killing Crowley would ever be the right thing in Aziraphale’s eyes. “M’an angel! I can’t dis- Can’t not follow orders!” 

“I trust you, angel.” 

Aziraphale swallowed again, his eyes locking with Crowley’s. “You… you do?” 

The room was still spinning around them. The angel blinked slowly, trying to work out what was happening outside of his drunken haze. He couldn’t understand why Crowley was being so nice about this. He should be angry. He should try and kill Aziraphale before Aziraphale could kill him. None of it made any sense! 

“How long have we known each other now, angel?” 

Crowley didn’t appear to be drunk. Aziraphale couldn’t remember whether he’d seen the demon drinking any of the wine. His glass was certainly still full, which was unusual for him. Then again, it made sense to want to stay alert if somebody held you at figurative gunpoint. At least sober he stood a chance of defending himself. Aziraphale wondered about sobering up himself, but he wasn’t sure he could handle this conversation without the helping hand from the wine. 

“S’long time,” Aziraphale mumbled. 

“Right,” Crowley nodded, “I think if you wanted me dead you’d have done it by now. Fuck, you even gave me holy water yourself. What was it, thirty years ago?” 

“Reluctantly!” 

“And I’m still grateful.”

Aziraphale peered suspiciously at Crowley. “You’re beingtoonice,” he said, his words slurring together a little from the wine. 

“Is it a crime?” 

“You’re a demon, Crowley!” 

“Fair point,” Crowley said. “I didn’t mean to become a demon, you know? I was just bored. Creating planets was only fun for so long.” 

Aziraphale’s forehead wrinkled. “Creating planets?” he asked. “But… But…” Jesus, it was hard to think clearly right now. “Weren’t they cre- created by the archangels?” 

“Bollocks,” Crowley said, almost comically slapping his forehead. He shook his head, looking pained. “I just… I helped out a bit, is all.” 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said his name slowly, fighting the alcohol that was making everything a muddle in his head. He really _should_ sober up. “Who were you? Y’know, before?” 

“I was nobody. It’s not important, angel.” 

“S’not important then you can tell me.” 

“Why do you even care?” 

“‘Cus I’m meant to be. Throwing. Holy. Water. Over you! I think I deserve to know why.” 

“Because your side is a bunch of pricks is why! You’re the only decent one in the lot.” 

There was a pause. Aziraphale blinked at him before deciding that, finally, it was time to sober up. He closed his eyes, his body jerking as he concentrated on expelling the alcohol from his system. A moment later it was done. His foggy mind cleared and the world seemed to make sense once more.

“Better?” Crowley asked, too softly. The angel jerked his head in a stiff nod, his gaze not wavering from the demon. 

“You were an archangel,” he said. “That’s why they want you dealt with.”

Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose but didn’t deny it. Finally, when Aziraphale thought he wasn’t going to say anything, he spoke. “Don’t you think, if that was the reason, they’d have done something about me a long time ago?”

Aziraphale didn’t know what to say to that. Crowley made an excellent point. There had to be something else. Maybe Heaven had discovered their friendship? It certainly wouldn’t look good up there to know one of their own was fraternising with the ‘enemy’. 

“So, who were you?” he asked instead. “If I’m perfectly honest, I didn’t realise any of the archangels fell. They certainly never announced it.” 

“Do we have to talk about this?” Crowley looked uncomfortable, running his finger around the rim of his wine glass just for something to do. “I’m just Crowley now. Can’t that just be enough?” 

Guilt instantly washed over Aziraphale. Whomever he was before, Crowley could never be them again. Of course, it stung to be reminded of his past. “I’m sorry, my dear,” he said. “You’re right, of course. It doesn’t matter.” 

“So, what now?” They both glanced at the holy water. 

“Well, I can’t do it,” Aziraphale said as if it were obvious. Crowley’s smile was fleeting. 

“You’ll be punished.”

“Then let them punish me.”

“But – ” 

“I’m not going to kill you, Crowley.” 

“What about your orders?”

“Fuck orders!” That made Crowley smile.

For a moment there was silence, the pair of them staring intently at one another. Finally, breaking eye contact, Crowley said, “Raphael.” 

“Pardon?” 

“I was Raphael.” 

“But…” Aziraphale trailed off, eyes wide. While he hadn’t personally ever seen the archangel Raphael, there had never been any indication that he wasn’t still doing his thing in Heaven. Out of the seven archangels, Raphael was in the top four, third only to Gabriel and Micheal. It didn’t really make sense. The archangel Raphael couldn’t _fall_. Beside’s, Crowley was a lowly demon, surely he would have been higher in the ranks had he formerly been an archangel. Unless being an archangel worked against him, made him less trustworthy in the eyes of his formidable comrades... 

“I asked questions,” Crowley explained, seeing the confusion on Aziraphale’s face. “The _wrong_ questions. God’s whole ‘mysterious ways’ bullshit never sat well with me. It still doesn’t. Mind you, Satan ain’t much better.” 

“No,” Aziraphale agreed. “He’s a hell of a lot worse. Literally.” 

“I don’t know, angel. I think they’re equally bad.” 

“But – ” Aziraphale started to argue but cut off. Since coming to earth six thousand years ago, the angel had become very fond of the human race. He had never really understood how God could casually kill them in horrendous ways and think nothing of it. Human’s lifespans were short enough as it was without God drowning them or sending a plague to wipe them out. 

The angel sighed. “I hate to admit that you might be right.” 

“I often am, angel.” Aziraphale couldn’t help but snort at that. “Hey!” 

“You keep telling yourself that, dear,” Aziraphale said, patting the demon on the shoulder much to the chagrin of the other. He felt lighter now that the secret was out. Sure, he would face punishment for his disobedience but he’d rather face the wrath of Heaven than live in a world without Crowley.

_Crowley_. It was… odd to know that the demon had once been his superior, one of the angels closest to God. Aziraphale would never have guessed it. Crowley was a clumsy, free-spirited, mischievous demon. Nothing about him reminded Aziraphale of the other archangels.

“You sure you want to do this, angel?”

“Do what?” 

“Disobey orders. For _me_.” 

“My dear, there is no one in the world I would rather disobey orders for.”

Crowley smiled. “So what happens now?” 

Aziraphale’s own smile dropped. “I will probably be sent back up there, punished and replaced by someone who’s willing to get the job done.” 

“I can’t let that happen. You love it here on Earth.” 

“Well, we’re not doing the alternative, dear chap.” 

“There’s got to be another way.” There wasn’t, though. Not that either of them could think of anyway. All options ended up with them never seeing one another again. 

The silence was deafening. Aziraphale couldn’t take it. 

“I just want you to know, dear, that I wouldn’t change anything for the world. Knowing you these past six thousand years… Well, it’s been wonderful.” 

“Angel…” Crowley sounded weepy. Aziraphale didn’t even know demons _could_ cry. Crowley had never been a very good demon, though. His idea of evil was switching the VHS tapes between boxes or delaying the tube. He was mischievous at best. Irritating at worst. And he cared about children and he always turned up to save Aziraphale even though he didn’t need too… 

Crowley was still an angel at heart. He just didn’t abide by the bloody bureaucracy of idiotic rules and, quite frankly, not very nice angels that made them. When he thought about it, neither did Aziraphale, not anymore. Not in a while.

The difference between them was that Crowley had questioned things while Aziraphale remained silently biting his tongue. Crowley had been brave and had been shoved from Heaven in a burning heap for it. Aziraphale was a coward and got to keep his halo. 

Aziraphale didn’t want to be a coward anymore. 

He reached out. 

“Azzzziraphale?” Crowley was hissing, flustered and blushing. His dark glasses had slid down his nose and Aziraphale could see his snake eyes flickering nervously from left to right. The angel didn’t stop reaching until his well-manicured hand found the demons cheek. 

“If this is the last time I’ll have a chance to say it then I don’t want to have any regrets, dear,” Aziraphale said. He wasn’t certain the demon felt the same, wasn’t sure he _could_ but it didn’t matter anyway. Soon they would be separated forever and Aziraphale wouldn’t have to live with the embarrassment. “I am rather in love with you, Crowley.” 

Crowley liked to think he was cool but right now he was a flustered mess, frozen like a deer in headlights. 

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said sadly. “I’m afraid I rather overstepped. I’m ever so sorry, dear chap. Just forget I sai-” He started to pull away but with snake-like reflexes, Crowley grabbed his wrist, effectively holding his hand in place against his flushed cheek. Human bodies were so bizarre. 

“Angel,” he said breathily. “I have loved you ssssince the beginning. It’s been driving me crazzzy.” 

“Y-you have?” Well, now that _was_ a surprise. 

“Did you really not know?” The demon seemed to have gained some form of control; his words were coming out clearer, with less hiss to them. He still held a firm grip on Aziraphale’s wrist, his yellow eyes still peering over the top of his dark glasses, locked on the angel’s blue pair.

“Well… no,” Aziraphale said honestly. “I rather hoped but… Honestly, Crowley. How was I meant to know?” 

“Why do you think I was always showing up? I didn’t have to save you all those times you got yourself into fucking ridiculous situations you know, angel.” With his free hand, the demon removed his glasses, carelessly tossing them onto the table before them. 

The television was still paused, the dragon's wings spread out, perhaps ready to take flight. 

“Well, I certainly never asked you to!” Aziraphale was getting defensive now. This wasn’t panning out at all how he had expected it to. 

“For someone so smart, you really are very stupid,” Crowley said. Aziraphale opened his mouth to protest but before he could get so much as a word out, Crowley was leaning forward, pressing his lips firmly against the angels. 

Kissing really was a very human thing. Aziraphale had never really understood why they did it. It didn’t seem particularly appealing, exchanging saliva and wresting tongues with one another. That was before Crowley kissed him, though. When the demon’s lips pressed against his, fire raged through the angel, bubbling in his stomach and burning his lips. Time seemed to stop. Certainly, all thoughts stopped. Any protests he’d been trying to make were swallowed by the black hole currently consuming his brain, leaving his mind blissfully blank. 

He pushed himself into the kiss, a surprising noise escaping his lips. It seemed to encourage Crowley, whose tongue snaked against Aziraphale’s lower lip until it teased another moan from him. 

“Angel,” Crowley panted against his mouth, so close Aziraphale could taste the words. “You’ve no idea…” He didn’t finish his sentence, Aziraphale didn’t let him. He’d been thoroughly disappointed by the lack of soft, warm lips against his own and had deemed it his responsibility to fix that problem. 

Aziraphale loved a lot of human things. He loved wine and good food. He loved music and the theatre. Most of all, he loved books. Somehow, impossibly, kissing Crowley topped the lot. Really, it shouldn’t have been so good. It was a bizarre custom, pressing ones face into another. He was quickly discovering, however, that lips weren’t just… well, _lips_. They were sensitive. They tingled against Crowley’s. Somehow, they made the rest of his body tingle, too. 

When they eventually parted, they didn’t go far. Crowley’s forehead rested against Aziraphale’s, his warm breath tickling his nose. The demon's eyes were closed but Aziraphale’s were wide open, taking in every inch of Crowley’s face despite him being close enough to make the angel go cross-eyed. 

“I won’t let them take you away from me,” Crowley murmured against Aziraphale’s cheeks. 

“My dear Crowley, I don’t think you’ll have a choice.” Aziraphale’s voice was equally quiet, twisted with a conflicting mixture of sadness and happiness. Sad because it was ending, happy because it had happened. 

The demon pulled away. Not far, but far enough that Aziraphale instantly missed his proximity. His snake eyes seemed to glow with determination.

“I’d like to see them try. Angel, we’re going rogue.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This won't be a long fic because if there's one thing I'm very good at, it's abandoning multichapter fics and I don't want to end up doing that. But stay tuned because there will be more :D
> 
> Thanks for your support!

The darkness was penetrating and absolute. It swallowed up the entirety of the room, consuming every nook, every cranny. Nothing survived its warpath. It cast everything in its darkness. 

Aziraphale didn’t usually need light to see. He was an angel and as such, had much keener senses than the humans he’d grown so very fond of. This darkness wasn’t normal, though. This darkness blinded even him. Aziraphale didn’t like that. It scared him not being able to see. It was an unfamiliar sensation and he didn’t like not feeling in control. 

“H-hello?” he called out, through the darkness. The void of nothing seemed to swallow his words and that scared him even more. 

He took a blind step forward, moving cautiously slowly. He didn’t know where he was. Anything could be in front of him and he wouldn’t know. Just because he couldn’t hear anything it didn’t mean it wasn’t there. 

“Crowley?” he asked the darkness. The last thing he remembered was being with Crowley in the bookshop. They had shared secrets, they had shared kisses. They had decided to abandon their sides in favour of their own. Was this a punishment for that? It had to be, surely? Somebody had overheard. Somebody had separated them and imprisoned them in some kind of… void. 

Aziraphale shivered despite himself. He wasn’t cold but he _was_ scared. Terrified really. He wasn’t sure he could survive here. Wasn’t sure he wouldn’t be driven completely mad… 

“Anybody?!” There was desperation in his voice now, the fear cracking through. He took another dozen, blinded steps, stumbling on nothing. 

Nothing. 

There was absolutely nothing. 

Never before had the angel felt so much like curling up into a ball and crying. He was alone, trapped in this hellish… 

Hell! 

Before his eyes, a reddish glow started to pierce through the darkness, spreading like the warm glow of a sunrise. 

Aziraphale watched in horror as, from the red glow, a small dark silhouette appeared. It walked forward, growing larger as it got closer. When it finally stopped, it was not close enough to see fine details but there was no mistaking who it was.

“Lucifer,” Aziraphale breathed out, his voice both a whisper and deafening shout at the same time. 

“Hello, Aziraphale.” 

Aziraphale shivered at his voice. To be honest, he’d been a fairly new angel when Lucifer and the others had fallen, had never really gotten to know any of them. Because of that, his assumptions about the whole lot of them were fairly negative. Except for Crowley… Crowley was different. 

“You’ve been quite the fallen angel, haven’t you?” Lucifer asked in a way that made Aziraphale shiver. 

“N-no,” he tried to protest. Was that what this was? Had Heaven discovered he’d disobeyed their orders already? Did they know about the kiss? The love confession? Was he _falling from grace?_

“I am very fond of Crowley, Aziraphale. He shows a lot of promise if he could only let go of that small amount of _good_ that he clings to. You are in the way of that. If you’re around he will never meet his full potential. You must be… 

“ _Eliminated_.”

Aziraphale's eyes flashed open and he sat bolt upright in bed. He didn’t remember falling asleep – didn’t usually sleep at all – but he had no doubt that had been a dream. 

Just because it was a dream, however, it didn’t mean it was any less real. 

“Angel?” Crowley asked sleepily, stirring beside him. 

“They know,” Aziraphale panted, breathlessly. “They know about us.” 

Crowley was silent for a moment, then that moment broke. Moving fast, he was out of bed, dragging Aziraphale with him. 

“Are you sure?” he asked over his shoulder, still dragging Aziraphale with him. 

“Lucifer visited me in my dream.” 

Crowley stopped abruptly. “Are you sure?” he repeated. He sounded scared. He should be. They both should be. 

“Of course I’m sure,” Aziraphale said. He waved his hand in a careless gesture and suddenly they were both dressed in their usual attire. “Crowley, what are we going to do?” 

“We run,” Crowley said. 

“Run? But, Crowley, _where_? My dear, there’s nowhere we can go that they won’t find us.” 

“We’ll think of something. Fuck _. Satan?_ I never thought they’d realise anything this quickly and I _definitely_ never thought the big guys would get involved.” 

“Apparently Satan’s rather fond of you.”

Crowley groaned. “Trust me, he’s just pissy that I’m sleeping with the enemy. Um, that is to – ” He cut off, blushing. There had been sleeping and _only_ sleeping between them. Well, asides from a bit of kissing, of course.

“I know what you mean, dear,” Aziraphale said. They didn’t have time for bashfulness. 

“Right,” Crowley drew his gaze away, still pink-cheeked and snapped a pair of dark glasses over his eyes. “Right,” he repeated. “So, where can we run too?” It wasn’t necessarily an open question, his quiet tone suggested he was talking to himself. Still, Aziraphale couldn’t help himself. 

“There’s nowhere to run, Crowley. They’ll find us eventually. We just have to face the music.” 

“Angel. We’re an _angel_ and a _demon._ Our love is more forbidden than fucking Romeo and Juliet!” 

“Really, Crowley,” Aziraphale blustered, “There’s no need for that language.” 

“Really? _That’s_ what you’re worried about?” Crowley laughed humourlessly. “Angel, we’re fucked and you care about me _swearing?_ ” 

“We’ll think of something,” Aziraphale said softly, squeezing Crowley’s hand. The demon’s expression softened, crumbling up a little. “Oh, my dearest…” The angel pulled the demon into his arms, holding him close. “We’ll think of something,” he repeated softly into Crowley’s ear. 

He didn’t know what, how, or if it was at all possible but it was better for them to have faith. Better for them to believe it could work out for the best. 

They clung to each other for a long moment, despite the fact that they didn’t really have time for it. If Hell was after them then Heaven probably was too. Either side could show up at any moment. They shouldn’t waste a second. 

There was nowhere to run though. 

“We could go to the stars,” Crowley suggested into Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

“They would find us eventually.” 

“Yeah but by then we’d have thought up a plan.” It was a foolish dream, of course. There was no plan that could help them escape the wrath of Heaven and Hell combined. They hadn’t just pissed off some underlings, they had pissed off the ‘big guys’. 

Their forbidden romance could only ever end in disaster. 

“Do you wish you’d done it?” Crowley asked quietly. Aziraphale pulled away from him, holding the demon at arm's length so he could look into his eyes firmly. Crowley’s eyes really were beautiful Aziraphale thought. 

“Of course not, my love. Don’t ever think that.” 

“But if you’d just – ” 

“Hush now,” Aziraphale said. He’d hear none of it. He didn’t regret disobeying orders for a second. There was no way he could have lived with himself if he’d have actually gone through with it and used the holy water on Crowley. It was bad enough that he’d ever even considered it. Bad enough that he’d gone so far as to pour the awful stuff into a glass anywhere near where Crowley had been sitting. Aziraphale would carry that guilt for the rest of his life. Which, sadly, might not be as long as he’d like. 

“If our situations had been reversed would _you_ have followed through?” 

“Of course not!” Crowley seemed horrified at the very thought.

“Then you understand,” the angel said firmly. He cupped Crowley’s face between the soft pads of his palms and leaned forward to press a gentle kiss against his lips. Just like food and books, Aziraphale was beginning to suspect that kissing was going to be another human thing he very much enjoyed. Kissing Crowley to be specific. Aziraphale could kiss Crowley for the rest of his life. 

Unfortunately, if he did that they would be dead within hours.

No, they had to hide. They had to run. They had to do _something._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Heatwave and writer's block have rendered me useless. I should have stuck to writing fluff, I'm struggling with this fic more than I thought I would - so sorry if it shows :(

The universe was a big place. Unfortunately for Crowley and Aziraphale, it was not big enough. They’d known there was nowhere they could run where they wouldn’t be found. God and Lucifer were omnipotent. If they wanted to find their renegades then they could do so rather quickly. 

They’d thought they might have more time, though. Enough time to plan. Enough time to at least _try_ and hide. 

They had been in the bookshop. Aziraphale was dithering over his books. He knew he couldn’t take them all. Even if they knew where they were going, it would still be too much of a risk. He couldn’t just leave them all, though. His books were everything to him. Aziraphale spared a moment to glance at Crowley, slouched in an armchair and apparently deep in thought. Well, _almost_ everything. His frown softened and he paused in his frantic pacing. 

“I have a network, you know,” Aziraphale said. 

“Hm?” Crowley’s forehead crinkled and he looked up. 

“A network of highly trained human operatives,” he continued. “Maybe they could help us? Human’s are good at hiding other humans.” 

“One problem, angel. We’re not human.” 

A thought dawned on the angel. A stupid, reckless, impossible thought. “Do you think we could be?” 

Crowley looked at him like he might have lost his mind. Perhaps he had. What they were doing was crazy, after all. 

Aziraphale didn’t regret it for a moment. Didn’t regret _them_. 

“Think about it dear boy,” he said. “If we make an effort we can do everything humans can-” He either didn’t notice or purposely ignored the flustered blush that crept across Crowley’s face as he realised what Aziraphale was saying. “-Why can’t we make the effort to become human?” 

“Angel, I don’t think it works like that.” Crowley was on his feet now, gently taking Aziraphale’s face between his palms. “Besides, if we were human – ” 

“-We’d age and die, yes yes. It’s better than the alternative, surely?” 

“A human life together would never be enough for me,” Crowley said. “I want eternity.” 

Aziraphale pulled away, his gaze dropping to the floor. “We won’t even have a few days together if we don’t come up with something,” he said softly. 

Crowley hesitated. He hated to disappoint his angel but he wished there was another way. It probably wouldn’t work and, even if it did, could they live as humans? Human’s had to eat and sleep every day. They had to go out and earn money. They got ill. They died. 

“Give me a little more time,” Crowley said quietly, reaching down to take Aziraphale’s hands. He was glad when the angel didn’t pull away. “Give me a few days and then, if I can’t come up with anything, we’ll do it your way.” 

“How sweet,” a voice said from the doorway. Aziraphale tensed. “I feel almost bad to break the delusion.” 

“Michael.” Aziraphale yanked his hands free of Crowley’s, more from knee jerk reaction than anything else. It still stung all the same. “What – uh… Why-” 

“I think you know why I’m here, Aziraphale,” Michael said already turning their attention to Crowley, eyes narrowing. “Long time no see.” 

“Michael,” Crowley said curtly. He really had been Raphael, then. It wasn’t that Aziraphale had doubted him but it was one thing being told something and another entirely seeing it for yourself. 

“It wasn’t enough to fall, then,” Michael said. “You had to bring down the first angel you saw, too.”

“I’m going to fall?” It came out as a squeak. Michael didn’t turn away from Crowley but the demon's eyes flickered to his angels, full of sorrow and something else. Something Aziraphale couldn’t identify. 

“What did you think would happen?” Michael asked, gaze still firmly on Crowley. 

“I – ” Aziraphale started to say but then cut off. He pulled his lips in, swallowing audibly, eyes set in determination. If falling was his price to pay to be with Crowley then falling was what he would do. 

Finally, Michael turned their gaze to the angel. After a moment, their lips twitched. 

“ _Heh_ , do you really think we’d let you fall so that you could be with your little boyfriend? No, I’m afraid you’re in for something much more… permanent.” Their eyes glistened with something much more fitting for a demon than an angel, but then, Aziraphale had long since learned that the two opposing sides were far more similar than they cared to acknowledge. Not that he’d have admitted that out loud before today, of course. 

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley from the corner of his eyes. What were they meant to do? It may have been two against one, but Michael was an archangel and the only reason they didn’t have back up was because they were confident they didn’t need it. 

Crowley still looked terrified, though Aziraphale could tell that it wasn’t for himself. Rather, he was scared for the mess he’d landed his angel in, for the consequences Aziraphale would have to face for his weakness. Without hesitation, Aziraphale reached out and once more took Crowley’s hand in his own, squeezing it. 

“Angel?” 

“Whatever happens, my dear, we’re in this together.” For a moment Crowley still looked torn, but then his face set and he nodded determinedly. His grip tightened on Aziraphale’s hand and together they turned their attention back to the archangel. 

“Come on then, Michael,” Crowley all but growled. “Give us your best shot.” 

Michael's lips twitched in amusement and suddenly Crowley’s hand was flopping uselessly to his side. His head twisted so quickly he felt a jolt of protest in his neck. 

Aziraphale was gone.

“Angel? Angel! Go- Sa- What have you done?!” He turned back to Michael ready to demand to know what they had done to Aziraphale, ready to demand that he be returned but the archangel, too, had vanished. 

Crowley stood alone in the bookshop, suddenly more frightened than he’d ever been in his life. Even more frightened than when he’d fallen from grace in a ball of blazing fire. Aziraphale was gone and there was a good chance he’d be worse than discorporated before Crowley could even figure out a way to break into Heaven to save him.

He should have grabbed Aziraphale’s hand when the angel had woken from his dream and dragged him far, far away. They wasted time lingering when they didn’t have a moment to spare. This could have, at least temporarily, been avoided if they’d just got a move on. Better yet, he should have told Aziraphale to use the holy water on him. He’d take death any day if it meant his angel was safe and could continue to enjoy all the things on earth that made him smile so beautifully.

Well, Crowley wasn’t very well going to give up. He’d been an archangel once, one of the most powerful beings in Heaven after God Herself. It may have been six thousand years ago and he may only be a lowly demon now, but what a combination to be. It gave him an edge, he felt. And he was damned if he wasn’t going to use that edge to save Aziraphale…


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for another long wait. Life has been pretty crappy and I've been very uninspired

The Bentley screeched around the corner, nearly taking out a policeman in its haste. By the time the man had brought his radio to his lips, however, he had quite forgotten what it was he had been meaning to report. 

Inside the Bentley, hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white, was Crowley. Where he was driving he wasn’t sure yet. He expected he’d figure it out when he arrived. 

Freddie Mercury was singing Mozart’s Another One Bites the Dust but to Crowley, it just sounded like inconsequential noise. His mind was whirling. 

They had taken his angel. 

Crowley was going to get him back if it was the last thing he did. 

Because of how little attention he was paying, it took the demon almost a full minute to register that instead of singing, his radio was now saying his name.

“Crowley!” The impatient voice all but screeched. 

“Huh?” 

“Why aren’t you in Paris, Crowley?” 

Paris? Oh, he’d almost forgotten that he was supposed to head over there to cause a car crash. Surely Hell realised he had no intention of doing that now. Surely they weren’t _that_ thick? 

“Forget about the angel, Crowley. Do your job, forget about him and you won’t be punished.” 

“Not gonna happen,” Crowley told whomever-the-hell it was he was talking to. Crowley didn’t care enough to find out. He took a sharp right.

“The angel won’t survive the night, Crowley. Do not waste your potential on a hopeless cause.” 

“You think I give a fuck about my ‘potential’?” Crowley said between gritted teeth. 

“You really want to face the same fate as that angel of yours?” 

Crowley took another sharp turn. He’d realised where he was going now and he was almost there. 

Hell’s threat of death didn’t bother him; If he was too late to save Aziraphale then he wouldn’t want to continue living anyway. He’d loved his angel for six thousand years from afar. Now that he knew Aziraphale felt the same, he’d raise Heaven and Hell to be together. And, well, if that failed then he’d follow his angel to whatever came for them afterwards. Even if it was oblivion. A life without Aziraphale was no kind of life at all. 

“Do your worst,” Crowley said and then he switched off his radio. 

Seconds later he was pulling up in front of _the_ skyscraper. The main entrance to Heaven and Hell. He still didn’t have a plan, was probably just going to wing it. Either way, he was either going to save Aziraphale or die trying. 

Running a hand through his shoulder-length red hair, Crowley hesitated only for a moment. When he entered the building he took the escalators up, something he had never done before. He had been long fallen by the time Earth was created after all. 

Heaven was as soulless as Crowley remembered. Nobody paid him any mind, too wrapped up in whatever it was they were doing to pay heed to the outsider walking amongst them. 

Crowley had always been able to find Aziraphale. Fortunately, that was no different in Heaven. The angel just seemed to exude a frequency that only Crowley could hear. Whenever Aziraphale was in danger the feeling became so overwhelming that Crowley couldn’t ignore it even if he’d wanted to (he never did). 

Right now Crowley could feel it like a throbbing in the back of his head. Aziraphale was in distress and his fear was leading Crowley right to him.

It would have probably been wise for the demon to come up with at least part of a plan before he burst into the room. That would have taken too much time, though. For all Crowley knew, he was about to arrive in time to watch as fucking Gabriel and Michael shoved Aziraphale into Hellfire or something equally awful and permanent. Crowley couldn’t allow that. He _wouldn’t._

And so, without a plan, without any means to escape, Crowley entered the room to save his angel. 

The room was a soulless as the rest of them, big and empty and impeccable clean. A wall of floor to ceiling windows revealed the human world below in a dizzying collection of world landmarks that should have been impossible to see together. Heaven always did get the best views. Crowley couldn’t blame Hell for wanting to get out of that dank basement. 

Aziraphale was tied to a chair in the centre of the otherwise empty room, and either side of him stood the two pricks Crowley both wished he didn’t have to deal with and simultaneously wanted to punch in the face. Aziraphale was gagged but his blue eyes pleaded with Crowley, begging him to escape, to save himself. Crowley shook his head subtly. If they didn’t leave together then they didn’t leave at all. 

“Raphael,” Michael said. “I thought you might show up.” 

“It’s Crowley,” the demon grunted.

“I didn’t believe Michael when they told me,” Gabriel said. “They were right, though. The great Archangel Raphael fell further than most. No wonder this useless excuse for an angel failed to follow orders.” He slapped the back of Aziraphale’s head, knocking it forward. Crowley’s eyes narrowed to near slits, but he didn’t do anything stupid; not yet. It took every ounce of his will power not to break the bastard's neck. “Found out he was fallen royalty and decided to suck up, did you?” Gabriel asked, leering at Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale’s reply was muffled through his gag. Gabriel stared at him for a moment and then yanked the material free. The angel wasted no time in speaking. 

“It doesn’t matter to me who Crowley used to be,” he said firmly, eyes colder than Crowley had ever seen them. “It matters who he is now. It matters that he is a good person, better than most, and I love him dearly and will forever continue to do so.” 

“How disgustingly soppy,” Gabriel said. “Fortunately for everyone, forever for the pair of you won’t be very much longer. Restrain the demon.” He appeared to be saying it to an empty room but suddenly strong arms were wrapping around Crowley, crushing into his chest, restraining him from being able to do anything but squirm. 

“You’ve had your fun,” Michael said to Gabriel. “Let’s get this done now before anything goes wrong.” Gabriel looked disappointed; he’d probably been planning to toy with the pair for a while longer, like a cat playing with a mouse. 

Gabriel cleared his throat and then turned his attention back to Aziraphale. “Principality angel Aziraphale, for crimes against Heaven including but not limiting lying to superiors, disobeying orders and fraternising with the enemy you are hereby sentenced to death.” 

Now Crowley really did start squirming against the arms holding his back. He kicked and thrashed, desperate to get free, desperate to save his angel who only looked at him with a sad smile but otherwise seemed entirely unfazed. He had accepted his fate. 

“You’ll release Crowley after?” Aziraphale asked softly. 

“He is not ours to punish,” Michael said. “However, I’m sure his side will be even less forgiving than us.” 

Aziraphale turned to look at Crowley again. The demon instantly stopped thrashing as their eyes locked. “Run, Crowley,” Aziraphale told him. “Runaway and hide. You must stay safe, do you hear? Promise me.” 

Gabriel snorted. “Like that’ll happen,” he said. 

Crowley didn’t pay the Archangel any attention, though. He was fixated on Aziraphale’s eyes. They seemed to be telling him something. Something he hadn’t thought of – something he should know – 

Oh! 

Crowley turned into a snake and the arms holding him back were suddenly no longer an issue.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I really must apologise for the delay! I've been chipping away at this chapter for weeks but I just couldn't get anywhere. I'm not overly happy with the finished result but ast this point I just want to finish the blasted thing haha. Sorry!

Crowley was human again before he hit the ground, ducking out of a crouch and shoving the angel who had been restraining him. Once more he easily became a snake when more hands fumbled for him. Hitting the ground he quickly slithered towards Aziraphale and the Archangels on high alert around him. They’d picked the wrong demon to mess with. He was going to rain chaos down upon them for messing with _his_ angel. 

Except – Suddenly there was a foot pinning him down. Michael had moved faster than Crowley thought possible. 

“Try anything and I’ll snap Aziraphale’s neck,” Gabriel warned from where he stood, holding the angel in a headlock. Crowley wasn’t sure whether snapping Aziraphale’s neck would kill him or not, but he certainly wasn’t willing to find out. He became motionless. 

“Very good,” Michael said. The foot pressed against Crowley’s scales harder than necessary. “Now, shift back, there’s a good demon.” 

Crowley obeyed, his mind reeling, trying to come up with an idea. His eyes locked on Aziraphale’s and his heart sunk to see genuine fear. Fear for the both of them. Fear because neither of them was likely to get out of his alive. 

There was nothing they could do. They had tried their ace in the hole and had failed spectacularly. 

Crowley was still on the ground, Michael’s foot digging painfully between his shoulder blades but, for a moment their eyes locked and it felt as if it were just Aziraphale and himself. “Angel,” the demon said, “I love you.” 

“Crowley,’ Aziraphale said softly. Sadly. He opened his mouth again to say more and Gabriel struck him. 

Furious and with no regard to his own safety, Crowley wriggled frantically, a growl of fury emitting from him as he tried desperately to get free. It was a kneejerk reaction and one he didn’t consider fully. It was Azirapahle’s life that had been threatened should he move, not his own. Fortunately, Gabriel didn’t make true on his promise. Not yet at least. 

When the pressure lifted from his back, Crowley didn’t question it. He just scrambled forward, practically launching himself into Gabriel, the momentum of his tackle so much that they both fell to the floor. His fist was slamming into Gabriel’s chin before Azirapahle could even squeak out his name. Nobody hurt his angel and got away with it – 

“Enough,” Michael said, sounding bored. Crowley’s arm, drawn back ready to land another punch, froze without his permission. “Raphael, you’ve been on Earth too long. Settling your disputes like a human – _disgusting_.” 

From underneath him, Gabriel spat out a mouthful of blood and pushed, knocking Crowley to the floor. The Archangel stood up, brushing down his fine suit.

“Well this was all rather distasteful,” Gabriel said, eyes locked on Crowley as the demon tried to get to his feet. Whatever Michael had done had made movement a fight for Crowley. It was like his body was working against him, becoming heavy and unresponsive. It took all of his energy just to get into a kneeling position. 

“Let me help him,” Aziraphale was pleading. “You can do what you want with me after, just let me make sure he’s okay…”

“He’s fine,” Michael said but a moment later, Aziraphale’s hands were on Crowley, tilting his chin upwards until their eyes locked.

“Angel,” Crowley gasped out. Even his tongue was fighting him, so heavy he could barely move it. 

Aziraphale turned back to Michael, his face hard. “Release him.” 

“Can’t risk it,” Michael said. “He might attack Gabriel again. I don’t want the paperwork.” 

“He won’t,” Aziraphale said, his eyes growing watery. “Just… please… Please let me say goodbye properly.” 

“Ang- ” Crowley started to grunt. This wouldn’t be goodbye. It _couldn’t_ be. Crowley couldn’t let their story end like this. Six thousand years couldn’t have been leading to this, it just wasn’t right, wasn’t _fair_. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale cut him off. He took his face between his hands and locked their eyes together again. “We were never going to have a happy ending, dear. But you have a chance. Let this happen, and run. Run far away and live. Live for both of us.”

When Aziraphale kissed him, Crowley finally felt the weight lift away. Suddenly it didn’t matter that they had an audience or the threat of death hanging over them. Crowley kissed his angel back as if they were alone, as if they were making up for six thousand years worth of kisses. When they broke apart, it wasn’t willingly. Gabriel grabbed Azirapahle by the collar and yanked him backwards. 

“We’ve humoured the pair of you too long,” Grabiel said before shoving Aziraphale away. In the Archangel’s suddenly free hand, a sword appeared and, a moment later, it burst into flames.

“No!” Aziraphale’s yell echoed out. 

Everything happened so quickly after that, before Crowley’s brain could ever hope to catch up. He saw the sword and the heavenly fire that engulfed it, realised that Gabriel planned to use it on him and what that meant. After that… There was a cry and a scuffle and then Crowley was staring numbly down at the body in his arms, his brain not quite comprehending what it was he was seeing. 

There was blood. There was _lots_ of blood. 

“…Angel?” The word fell out of his mouth without him registering he was speaking. Blue eyes locked onto his and Aziraphale had the _nerve_ to smile. “W-What have you done?”

“The heavenly fire would have killed you, dear.” Specks of blood appeared on his lip as he spoke but the angels' voice remained strong. A further few seconds seemed to zap that strength from him and Aziraphale coughed up more blood, wincing as it pulled at the hole in his stomach. 

“Don’t think this changes anything,” Gabriel said. “You were next anyway.” 

Crowley didn’t have the will or energy to react. He just clung to Aziraphale, aware that his eyes were brimming with tears. If they both had to die, at least they could do it together. He held Aziraphale even tighter, their eyes locked, not even paying attention to the fact that the flaming sword was being raised again, ready to strike them both down.

“I love you, angel,” Crowley said. 

“And I love you, my dearest Crowley.” 

The sword came down –

“Wait!”

Crowley and Aziraphale’s gazes whipped away from one another, widening as they realised just how close the blade had been to ending them for good. After a moment it withdrew. Crowley couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped his lips.

“My Lord,” Gabriel said sheepishly. “What… uh… What an unexpected surprise.”

“Michael, Gabriel,” God said, her voice coming from all around. “Just what do you think you are doing?” She spoke to them like they were naughty children and she the parent who had caught them with their hands in the cookie jar. In fairness, asides from being far more morbid, it wasn’t far off. 

“Delivering a suitable punishment, my Lord,” Michael said, sounding a little bored. Crowley had to respect their nerve. 

“Do you not think that I should deliver suitable punishments to my own?” 

“We meant no disrespect, Lord. We simply did not want to bother you with such trivial – ” 

“Enough,” God said impatiently. “The audacity to question my ineffable plan is quite astonishing.” 

Crowley had already tuned the conversation out, his trembling, blood-stained fingers stroking Aziraphale’s pale cheek, leaving behind red smears. The angel had returned his gaze to Crowley, his eyes communicating that everything was fine, that Crowley would be okay, that he could survive this.

Aziraphale wasn’t often wrong, but right now he definitely was. Crowley couldn’t keep going on in a world without Aziraphale. He couldn’t and he wouldn’t – 

“Raphael,” God scolded, finally bringing Crowley back into the conversation happening around him. “Stop with such morbid thoughts.” 

“But – ” The tears were falling freely now. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t survive this, he just _couldn’t_. A hand reached up tentatively, brushing away his tears. Crowley looked down, stunned to see Azirapahle smiling at him from his arms. The colour had returned to his cheeks and he no longer seemed to be in pain. A moment longer and Crowley realised there was no bloody anymore, either. 

“You’re… You’re okay,” he said, not quite ready to believe what his eyes were seeing. 

“I healed him,” God said simply. “As an apology for my Archangel’s behaviour, I’d like to offer the two of you something. Anything you like.” 

“That’s very generous, my Lord,” Aziraphale said, finally sitting upright. As Crowley still gawped over Aziraphale’s now healed body, the angel himself drew his gaze level on the two Archangel’s who had put them in such a terrible situation. His blue eyes narrowed into a cold, hard stare. He let his lips curl into an almost demonic smile that lingered for a chilling few seconds before turning back to Crowley. 

“I want,” Aziraphale said slowly, not even bothering to glance back at the Archangels to see their reaction as he slowly drew out his answer. “I want for Crowley and me to be returned to Earth and left alone.”

Crowley wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but he thought he heard Michael breath a sigh of relief. 

“Are you sure, angel?” God had said they could have anything. After all that the Archangels had put them through, Crowley couldn’t be the only one itching for revenge.

“You’re all I want, my dear,” Aziraphale said, stroking his thumb across Crowley’s palm. The smile that spread across the demons face at those words put all angels to shame. 

“It is done,” God said. 

“My Lord – !” Gabriel started to protest but Michael elbowed him silent. Apparently at least one of the Archangels realised that Aziraphale could have quite as easily wished for something terrible to be rained down upon them. Whether it be struck from Heaven or somehow even worse they would never know. Eventually, a few years down the line, Aziraphale admitted to Crowley that he had never intended to waste God’s gift on them. 

“How could I?” he would say. “Why waste such a blessing on revenge when I could be with you forever?” 

Back on Earth, God was true to her promise and even the agents of Hell left Crowley and Aziraphale alone. 

“Dunno how They wangled that,” Crowley said over a glass of wine. “Must have promised Satan something quite terrifying.” 

“Let’s not dwell on that,” Aziraphale suggested, looking a little ill at the thought. 

“Mind you, we’re lucky we made it out alive. Didn’t think we would for a hot minute there.” 

“It’s all rather thanks to you, I should think.” Aziraphale’s smile almost brought tears to Crowley’s eyes. His smile had always been one of the most beautiful things the demon had ever seen. 

“Don’t know how you worked that one out,” Crowley said, both flattered and flabbergasted. “You’re the one who asked for all of this,” he gesticulated around him, “I’d have thrown Michael and Gabriel under the bus.” 

“I don’t believe that for a minute, dear,” Aziraphale said. While Crowley would have definitely considered it, Aziraphale was right. The temptation of all _this_ – the freedom to be ‘them’ without fear of repercussions – was too strong. Any other wish would have ultimately been a waste for there would never have been any guarantee that they would be left alone otherwise. Crowley couldn’t handle going through that nightmare again. 

As the thought struck him, Crowley reached out and took Azirapahle’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “I was so scared,” he confessed. “I thought I’d lost you.” 

“I think you almost did,” Aziraphale said. “I’m so sorry you had to witness that, my love.” 

“Just don’t do it again,” Crowley grumbled, giving Aziraphale’s hand another tight squeeze. 

“Well, I’ll certainly try my best. To think, this whole messy ordeal started and ended with death.” 

“You should have just killed me, would have saved some trouble.” 

“I would never!” Aziraphale admonished.

Crowley laughed and leaned in for a chaste kiss. “You know what?” he said as he briefly pulled away. “I’m glad. Be rather hard to do this if you had of.” The demon cut Aziraphale’s laugh short with another, longer kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this wrapped up way easier than I would have liked (I planned for way more angst haha) but it just wasn't happening :( Writer's block is the worst!


End file.
